


Touch Range

by Sour_Idealist



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Imperfectly Negotiated Kink, Kinktober 2018, Medical Kink, Now With Cure Spells!, Sexual Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 11:30:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16174172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sour_Idealist/pseuds/Sour_Idealist
Summary: “Oh, I can definitely cure you,” Jester says, taking another step closer. “I'm a really good healer. But it might take alotof magic, maybe, and you know a lot of spells need you to touch the person.”“I'd heard,” he says gravely. “And I'd imagine a lot of magic means you might need to do a lot of touching, right, Doctor?”





	Touch Range

**Author's Note:**

> For the 'medical kink' entry on Kinktober 2018. I forgot to include this in the notes of the first entry, but: in addition to doing Kinktober, I am adding a personal challenge to it: every fic will feature a woman from a traditionally 'monstrous' fantasy race. (I'm stretching the definition a little bit with tieflings, honestly, but Jester offers too many possibilities). This is the end of a lengthy chain of logic, but I've committed to it. 
> 
> Warnings at the end, elaborating on the imperfectly-negotiated-kink bit. Everyone within this fic enjoys everything that occurs.

“Fjord,” Jester says, slipping into the little cabin of the _Mistake_ that's become Fjord's, and, apparently, Fjord's alone. (Captain's privileges, ridiculous as that is given he's maybe half a captain, but the others have faith in him and with that faith comes, apparently, his own quarters. At least until they start becoming Jester's too – which might not happen, but it might.)

“You look pretty banged-up,” she says, looking him up and down. “Like you maybe need some special attention?”

“I'm all right,” Fjord protests, because it's true. He's been better, he's carrying the patchwork of aches that they're all becoming used to – a wrenched shoulder, bruises stippling his ribs, an ache lingering in his thigh – but Caduceus patched him up pretty well, earlier. He's tough. He's fine. Jester sighs.

“Fjooooord,” she repeats, waggling her eyebrows. “You look like you maybe need some _special healing,_ though. From your _favorite cleric._ ”

“I – oh. Oh!” He's blushing, he knows. From what they've said, Jester doesn't have _that_ much more practical experience than she does, but she's overflowing with ideas, things that would never even cross his mind. This isn't something he's ever thought of, but – he could be persuaded. He could definitely be persuaded.

“You know, I think I do,” he said. “What, uh, what should I do? To be tended to.”

The smile that breaks across her face is bright and broad and no part of the game. (Like she's relieved, maybe, that he liked the idea, that he wanted this? Maybe. He's been trying to remember, lately, that just because he'd never doubt her doesn't mean she'd never doubt herself.) Then she straightens her shoulders and arranges her face into carefully professional consideration, with her lower lip pinched between her fingers.

“You should get naked,” she decides. “I need to see if you have any secret injuries.”

“I can do that.” He licks his lips. “Uh, Doctor.” She keeps her face under control, but not the joyful twitching of her tail. He sets about stripping, maybe a little hastily. Maybe a lot hastily. Finally, he's naked for her inspection, and she walks a slow circle around him, eyeing him up and down. Making a study. Her tail twitches in slow circles.

“Well,” she says at last, coming to a halt in front of him. “It's a good thing you have my medical attention. This is definitely a serious case.”

“I suspected so,” Fjord says gravely. “But you can cure me, right?” He's not sure if this is what she meant or if he's taking the game a little too far, but – he likes her magic, likes all of her, and hell. He puts his life in her hands every day, hers and Caduceus's, and Caduceus is kind enough but a little slow-moving to be Fjord's type. There's something terrifying in it, but something nice in the trust. He's glad to sit with the second part for a while, make it playful instead of deadly.

“Oh, I can definitely cure you,” Jester says, taking another step closer. “I'm a really good healer. But it might take a _lot_ of magic, maybe, and you know a lot of spells need you to touch the person.”

“I'd heard,” he says gravely. “And I'd imagine a lot of magic means you might need to do a lot of touching, right, Doctor?”

“Exactly,” she says, “that's exactly right,” and runs her fingers down his chest, rubbing her thumbs over his nipples. He gasps.

“I should... hold still, right?” he asks, meeting her eyes. “Hold still and let you do your work?” She bites her lip, considering.

“Probably, yeah,” she says, and runs her palms down his ribs, over his hips, until she can reach back and squeeze his ass. “That's probably a good idea.”

“Your treatment seems to be having some side effects,” he says, ignoring the burning in his ears. He's not all the way hard yet, but he's getting there, and a little faster than his dignity would like. Jester does it for him, easy. He never used to be casual about these things – and he still isn't being casual about it, if he's honest with himself, but with Jester, for the first time in his life, he can be playful about sex. And it's a revelation to him still.

“Those are pretty normal,” Jester says, and takes a step behind him to run her nails lightly down his back. “Just bear with me, okay?”

“Of course, Doctor,” he says, and holds still and bites his lip and lets her drive him fucking _nuts._ She touches every inch of him except his cock: his throat, his thighs, his ass, the tips of his ears, the delicate insides of his wrists, even pries his mouth open like he's a horse to stick her fingers inside, and he sucks at her skin and tries to pretend his cock isn't twitching even harder at the treatment. She doesn't kiss him, which is unusual – they can kiss for hours, sometimes, nothing but that – but then, it doesn't really fit the game, and there'll be other chances. Other times. He sucks a little harder at her fingers and tries not to arch his back too much when she pinches at his nipples, murmuring something low about a reflex test in his ear. His breathing is getting rough.

“I think you should maybe sit down,” she says, palms flat against his chest. “This treatment is a little intense, okay?”

“Yes, ma'am,” he says; his voice is embarrassingly ragged, but it's all right. It's Jester. “I mean, uh, yes, Doctor.” Her hands press against him, shoving him back, and the cabin is private but it's not _big_ ; it's maybe a step and a half until his knees hit the edge of the bunk and he can sit with an abrupt, obedient _thud._ He's not sure what Jester intends from here; he holds still and lets her clamber around until she's kneeling on the bed behind him, her breasts pressed against his back, her hands on his hips. Her horn bumps the side of his head; she adjusts, a little, and runs her hands down his thighs.

“Could we, ah,” he licks his lips. “Could we do anything to manage the side effects, maybe, uh, Doctor?”

“Yeah, that might be a good idea,” she says seriously, and wraps her hand around his cock. Fjord groans, letting his head fall back against her shoulder. He's not, he suspects, going to last too long; but that's happened before, and Jester's never held it against him. There's something soothing in that, and it lets him give himself up to her touch. He's already leaking, breath rough and shallow in his throat. She leans in, her horn brushing him again, her breath hot against his ear.

“Okay,” she says, “now for the most important part of the treatment,” and power echoes in her voice. Fjord gasps, eyes flying open. He just catches a glimpse of familiar rosy-glowing magic, and then she channels pure magic through the hand wrapped around his cock.

Warmth melts through him, every muscle in his body spasming and going slack. Rightness, cleanness, tingles through his veins. For the first time in his life, his vision goes starry and strange. The bruises in his ribs dissolve; little jolts of health and pleasure spark from his leg, from his once-aching shoulder; his cock pulses in her hand, spilling come over her fingers. It takes the breath from him completely, and he collapses loose against her, utterly undone. She takes his weight easily, heavy as he is.

“Holy shit,” he pants, when he can. “Holy shit, Jester.”

“Was that okay?” she asks, leaning against his shoulder. “I thought it could be fun, but...”

“That was – that was something,” he breathes. “It was good. I didn't realize you were actually gonna...”

“It was only a first level,” she says, shrugging. “You liked it, though, right?”

“Yeah,” he says. His voice is maybe a little wrecked. “Yeah, I did. Fuck, I'm gonna think of this every time you heal me, now.” Which is still not exactly often, but he's not going to mention it now. She has plenty of ways to save his life. “That can – let's do that again sometime.”

“Okay, cool.” She sounds flippant, but she ducks her head, pressing a low warm kiss to the back of his neck. “I can do that.”

“Thank you,” he says, and then collects himself a little, remembering. He twists his neck to meet her eyes. “So, uh. I mean. That was an... that was a very effective treatment, Doctor. Should I maybe, you know...” He licks his lips. “Pay you back?”

She smiles at him, bright as the sunrise coming up on the ocean.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if "casting a non-mind-affecting and purely beneficial spell on someone during sex without asking but it's a spell you cast on them regularly in other contexts and also they're into it" needs a warning or not, so I'm simultaneously erring on the side of caution and setting a personal record for extremely specific warnings.


End file.
